


Whole Again

by LawBringerSSV2



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Infidelity, Pain, mercymaker, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:10:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawBringerSSV2/pseuds/LawBringerSSV2
Summary: She didn’t believe she actually loved her. If she did, she wouldn’t do this to Angela.





	Whole Again

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the boy with the best edits...he know who he is.

Angela placed her phone down on the kitchen table after checking her text messages for the hundredth time that evening. The ticking of the clock that hung on the wall above the refrigerator was the only noise keeping the woman from going steadily insane. She watched the clock tick on, her eyes having adjusted to the darkness in the kitchen long ago. The only light present was that of the moon, which trickled through the window and illuminated a portion of the room. Looking down at her hands, Angela played with the ring that resided on her left hand; A piece of jewelry that was simultaneously a symbolic gesture from her lover.  
  
The refrigerator began to hum loudly as she continued twisting the ring around her finger. Distracting herself was nearly impossible, as every single thought lead back to the negative emotions that almost seemed to be magnified at the moment. Eventually her eyelids shut and she buried her face in her hands. Why was she like this? Why did she wait so long for a person who hardly ever showed up to give her what she needed, or never answered when she needed them? Why was she so willing to ruin herself over a single person? As she thought on it, the woman’s eyes began to water, a sob catching in the back of her throat. 

 

This was a weekly thing, now. This was a weekly heartbreak that Angela continuously went through. A routine of always getting her hopes up, thinking that her lover would pop by, only to never receive so much as a single word. Sometimes, they’d show up at random hours, apologize and whisper sweet nothings until Angela forgave them. When it was good, it was good; But when it was bad, it was the worst. Angela bit her lip, holding back the tears that were attempting to fight their way out as she weighed every aspect of the situation. Her nose started to run and she wiped at it viciously with the sleeve of her lab coat. She hated that she was like this. What’s more, she hated that she put up with this. Why didn’t she love herself enough to demand respect?  
  
Shifting in her seat, the somber woman instantly perked up at the sound of vibrations against the wooden kitchen table. Quickly, without so much as a single thought, Angela shot her hand out to pick up the device and answer it. She was frustrated, hurt, and angry—All of which shined through as she answered the phone.  
  
“What do you want?” Angela rasped out with venom in her voice, “Going to cancel like always?”  
  
She could hear a tongue click on the other line, her partner displeased that Angela had answered with such anger, “You answer with such anger _amor_. You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”  
  
“I know you. I know you’re flakey.” The Swiss woman countered without skipping a beat.  
  
“I have a valid excuse to be,” The voice answered with an amount of placidity that threatened to further infuriate Angela.   
  
The doctor briefly considered tossing her phone against the wall so hard that it would break, but she began to remember that she had more self control than that, “Right. Because if your husband found out you were fucking a woman, he’d leave you.”  
  
“Angela,” Her name came through the opposite end of the line as if it were a warning, “That’s not fair. You know I love you.”  
  
Angela bit her lip harder, more tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “I don’t think you do.”  
  
Another click of the tongue floated through the speaker, “You know I do, Angela. You’re just being silly now.”  
  
“...Are you coming over or not?” Angela demanded to know after a bout of silence.

 

She refused to respond to the woman on the other line regarding what she had just said. She didn’t believe she actually loved her. If she did, she wouldn’t do this to Angela. This weekly ritual wouldn’t be what it was. Things between them would be healthy and normal… Not whatever this was. This was _not_ love.   
  
“ _Oui_ ,” She said before the other end of the line clicked.  
  
Angela stood up from the kitchen chair, her body racked with anger. She gripped the cellphone in her hand, her nostrils flaring as she tried to steady her breathing. With frustration clouding her mind, she hurled her phone at the wall, carrying out the action that she had deemed beneath her only moments earlier. It smashed into the drywall, an audible cracking sound hitting her ears as she watched pieces of the phone break apart. The whole thing clattered to the floor in a heap. The woman’s eyes then flashed to the wall where the phone had made contact, noticing a newly formed indentation in the plaster that coated it.

 

In a huff, her anger began to subside and Angela moved out of the kitchen. She shrugged off her lab coat and unlocked the front door before tossing the coat onto the rack in the entry hall. The medic proceeded to unclip her bra and toss it on the living room couch. She kicked off her shoes and unbuckled her jeans, happy to be mostly rid of her clothes from the day. Not bothering to head to the restroom to take off her makeup, the woman instead made a beeline toward her bedroom upstairs. Angela climbed the steps sluggishly. She was tired from her twenty-four hour shift, tired from her argument with her lover—Just tired.   
  
Throwing open her bedroom door, she kicked off her jeans the rest of the way and allowed them to occupy the floor space at the end of her bed. Walking around to the right side of her bed, Angela crawled beneath the covers and pulled them up to her chin. She began to cry again, her sobs coming out choked and muffled by the blankets. She felt like a little girl again. She felt the same way she had felt when she was alone, without her family, wishing for nothing more than the comfort of her parents telling her that everything would be alright. But she was an adult now; An adult who couldn’t even depend on her own lover. The mere notion of that alone was enough to make her cry herself to sleep.

 

-

 

  
A soft knock on the partially opened bedroom door caused Angela to open her eyes, disturbing the light sleep that she had fallen into. The once steady rhythms of her heart and breathing immediately picked up. Angela brought the covers away from her head, pushing them to her waist before looking toward the threshold of her doorway. There she stood. Her amber, cat-like eyes almost glowing against the darkness in the room. Her long hair looked messy, as if she had just gotten up. And she was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a white v-neck shirt.  
  
“Angela,” The familiar accented voice whispered as their eyes met.  
  
Angela averted her gaze. Typically, the shining ocean blue eyes would be excited to see the other woman, but tonight they were reddened from the seemingly endless crying she had weathered. Sure, she had wanted her lover to come to her. Now that she was here, though, it felt like her anger was bubbling inside of her chest once again. Angela couldn’t behave like a child and ignore her. She had to control herself.  
  
“Amélie,” Angela whispered back, “Feel free to come lay down.”  
  
The blonde rolled onto her side, staring at the wall as she heard socks brushing against the carpeted floor. She felt her mattress dip down and listened to it creak slightly as a second body moved onto it. Warm arms wrapped around Angela’s frame, pulling her close to the other woman.   
  
“I’m surprised you came,” The smaller woman admitted, her voice hoarse.  
  
Amélie’s fingers pressed into her side. The gesture was meant to be comforting—Something Angela typically enjoyed—but instead it only served to further piss her off. It seemed like they had reached the point of no return. How could this be remedied? Angela bit the inside of her cheek as she listened for Amélie’s response, which she didn’t doubt would be ridiculous.

 

“I come when it counts, _mon ange_.”  
  
Angela gritted her teeth. “What did you tell your husband this time? Or did you just slip out?”  
  
There was a moment of silence before the soft French accent floated through the air, “I told him that work asked me to travel out of state last minute, which isn’t exactly a lie...”  
  
“So you’re leaving,” She paraphrased, still facing away from her girlfriend.  
  
“In a couple of hours, yes _._ I’ll be in upstate New York,” Amélie confirmed.  
  
Angela’s eyes watered for what must have been the millionth time that night. Of course. Of course Amélie would leave her again. Angela was a fool to ever think otherwise. It was stupid of her to believe that her girlfriend would stay for longer than a couple hours at a time, stupid to believe that maybe this time Amélie would give her just a bit more than a mere night. Could she even constitute the nights they spent together as an entire night? After all, Amélie showed up at the most obscure hours of the evening and disappeared before the sun came up. It was like she was never there to begin with.  
  
Then there was Gérard… Gérard, he got the best of Amélie, the most of her. Day in and day out, he got to wake up next to Amélie and celebrate major holidays with her. He got to take her on dates, worship her, and show her off. And Angela, well, Angela got whatever was left. She got the late night booty calls on nights Gérard failed to pleasure her, she got the Amélie who was frustrated at her husband, she got the random hours of the night Amélie, or the Amélie who was here for nothing more than a mere few hours. That’s what Angela got—No. That’s what Angela _settled_ for. And it had slowly begun to break her. She couldn’t keep doing this.  
  
A steady stream of tears began to trickle down Angela’s cheeks, “Of course. I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you.”  
  
A soft hand began to slowly make its way under Angela’s pajama top, lifting it little by little. Nimble fingers brushed against the bare skin of her abdomen and a shiver made its way down the blonde’s spine. The blonde hated how intoxicating the touch of such a damaging person could be. She hated that even in spite of the immense anger she was experiencing at Amélie, she was still completely enraptured by the feeling of her hands on her body.

 

Amélie’s voice whispered in her ear, her lips brushing against her cartilage “Angela. You’re not being fair. You know it has to be this way.”  
  
“It doesn’t, though,” Angela protested as the dexterous hand continued pushing her shirt off.

 

An assertive tap on her chest acted as a request for Angela to sit up briefly. The woman, without thinking, let it happen. It was as though force of habit had gotten the better of her mind. Coupled with the touch of Amélie, Angela was nothing more than the equivalent an obedient dog that didn’t even need verbal cues to do tricks. How had she allowed herself to fall this far? How had she allowed things to get this bad?  
  
Amélie gently pulled Angela’s shirt off entirely before laying her back down and straddling the smaller woman, “Just let me take care of you while we have time. I promise I can make you feel better.”  
  
Tears were still streaming down her face, though they were coming slower than before. Her bloodshot eyes gazed up at the amber eyes that she adored so much. The way that she looked at her, the way that she spoke to her, all of it was far too captivating to ignore. If her lover wanted her as badly as she let on, how could she deny her? If this was all she got from Amélie, why shouldn’t she just take it? Who was she to be so greedy? Who was she to throw a fit and behave like a child over it?  
  
The French woman removed her own shirt, slipping up her v-neck to reveal a lacy purple bra. Angela’s fingers instinctively glided up Amélie’s rib cage as they had done so many times before. The dancer above her was gorgeous, breathtakingly stunning. For a moment, Angela almost let the mixture of physical contact and overwhelming attraction wash away her emotional pain. Amélie leaned down, her long hair brushing against Angela’s exposed chest. Slowly, she began placing kisses along the blonde’s belly, ghosting her lips up towards her lover’s breasts.  
  
It felt good. It always did. Resisting Amélie’s gestures almost felt like it was completely out of the question. Angela moaned, tangling her hands into the dark tresses of her partner. Her shaky fingers dug into Amélie’s scalp and her back arched off the bed. Another small moan escaped her lips and the anger in her chest was beginning to dull. When she was being touched like this by Amélie, it was so easy to forget why she even got mad at her girlfriend in the first place. But, this time, she had to resist. She couldn’t let Amélie wash away her inner turmoil with physical contact.  
  
She gently pushed Amélie’s face away and whispered, “Please get off of me.”   
  
The darker haired woman shook her head, dismissing Angela’s words as nothing more than mere hesitance. Her hand slid up the length of her side to brush over her bare chest. The doctor’s dying anger was now lit like a fuse, tying her stomach into knots and forcing her to take further action.  
  
“I said,” Angela started, her voice desperate as she began pushing a bit harder, “Please just get off of me, Amélie.”  
  
Amélie froze, hearing the seriousness in her lover’s voice. She quickly got off of her, sitting back on her heels. Angela scrambled upward and stopped her own body against the metal frame of the bed. The cold bars pressing into her back made her uncomfortable, though Angela didn’t have it in her to care about anything other than her vexation.  
  
“What’s wrong, _amor_?” Amélie asked, the concern in her voice was evident and her brows furrowed to showcase it further.  
  
Angela shook her head, a fresh set of tears wetting her eyes. In all honesty, she was surprised she had it in her to cry anymore. She wasn’t the best at hydrating herself and at this point she wouldn’t be surprised if her eyes just stopped producing tears at all. The burning sensation in them was a warning enough that she needed to pull herself together.

 

Her voice was small as she looked back to her lover. “I… I, I really just...”  
  
Amélie reached forward, attempting to press her palm to Angela’s cheek. Angela quickly swatted it away and sucked in a harsh breath. Her open hand curled into a white-knuckled fist as she pulled it back in toward her body.  
  
“I hate you,” The blonde woman spat.

 

Amélie could say nothing, as Angela only continued.

 

The tears in her voice were obvious, it was raspy, “I hate you so much... But I—I love you, too. All I want… All I’ve wanted since the beginning is all of you.”  
  
Amélie rolled her eyes at the woman in front of her. The mattress creaked again slightly as she began to move and Angela could feel her partner moving away from her. 

 

She started making her way off the bed, “ _Sérieusement_? Not this again, Angela. I have a husband. I can’t leave him. You know why. I feel like you would know better by now.”  
  
Angela almost reached out and attempted to catch Amélie before she could get off of the bed. She wanted to stop her girlfriend, but she didn’t this time. She knew it was in her best interest to let the raven-haired woman go. Tonight had been a disaster and she hadn’t even been there for an hour. Hell, she didn’t even have to be within close proximity of Angela to upset her.  
  
“I do know, Amélie. Your family would disapprove and it would ruin the business empire you’ve built together. How tragic,” Angela snarled.

 

She knew this excuse all too well. She’d been told it for years. It was the only thing that Amélie could ever use to excuse her staying with Gérard despite the fact that she’d told Angela they could be together. Anger permeated the room as the doctor thought of every single time she had believed Amélie when she said those things. The blonde got off of the bed as well, standing tall as she glared at the woman gathering her shirt back up.  
  
“You keep telling me that one day you’ll leave him,” Angela began, “All I have to give you is time… But it’s been two years! Two years, Amélie! Two years and all I’ve gotten is late night booty calls!”  
  
She had begun to pace, frustration in every step she took. Amélie hurriedly threw her shirt on. She refused to look at Angela as she grabbed her stuff from the nightstand on her side of the bed; A side that Angela had given her over a year ago. A side that Angela had once thought would eventually belong to her forever.  
  
“Look, I’m just going to go, Angela,” Amélie said as she smoothed out her shirt and reached for her car keys, “You’re obviously tired. I’ll talk to you once I’m back from my trip.”  
  
Angela stared at the woman, absolutely astounded. How could Amélie care so little for her feelings? Another flash of ire ran through Angela like a shockwave, beginning in her chest and crashing over the rest of her like a tidal wave. Her cheeks flushed red as her face heated up, her hands beginning to shake.

 

“N-No! Fuck you! _Fick dich! Ich hab mein bestes gegeben_ —I’ve given you _all_ of me! Not once have I stepped out on you, not once have I ever even _looked_ at another woman.”  
  
Angela paced faster, her hands becoming more expressive and more flustered. “Lord knows I’ve wanted to! I’ve wanted to sleep with someone else so bad, but I’m loyal to you! And you don’t give me shit Amélie! You don’t give me _shit_.”  
  
“I give you everything I can,” Amélie said, now beginning to raise her voice as anger built within her as well. “I give you every part of me that I can feasibly give you. Why can’t that be enough?”  
  
“ _Willst du mich verarschen?_ ” Angela bit out, a harsh laugh escaping her lips as she stopped in her tracks.

 

This was so unlike her. The unchecked anger, the reverting to her native tongue, the uncontrollable urge to punch a hole through the wall. The doctor normally wasn’t one to use coarse language, but this time she deemed it acceptable. Did that mean that the rest of her behavior could be an exception? Amélie had pushed her to her limits. She had gone too far for Angela to turn back now.

 

“I get you for _maybe_ two hours every two weeks if I’m _lucky_. You give Gérard everything and I’ve always gotten the leftover pieces. I’ve always been just a fuck to you. Someone you could get your kicks off with and then leave. You do _not_ keep me around because you love me. You keep me around because I’m convenient.” The blonde’s voice had dipped to a dangerously low level, her breathing ragged now, “You keep me around as a pet—Someone to fuck when Gérard doesn’t give it to you right.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Amélie growled.

 

She began to walk out of the bedroom without a second thought, her own anger blinding her. The keys jingled in her hand as she stormed toward the stairs. If she didn’t leave her girlfriend’s house now, she might lash out with physical violence. Amélie always did have the more fiery temper of the two. The dancer kept a deathgrip on the banister as she approached the first level of the house. She stalked toward the living room door as she heard Angela’s footsteps hurrying behind her. Stopping in the entrance hall of the house, Amélie turned around, nearly face-to-face a more than angry Angela.

 

“If I leave tonight, then I’m not coming back.” Amélie warned.  
  
A fist whizzed near her face, punching the doorway behind her. Angela’s bottom lip was clenched between her teeth despite its incessant trembling. Her burning eyes looked like she could murder someone given her blinding rage. Without a word, the blonde stepped aside and opened the front door to her home. 

 

She began pushing Amélie out forcefully, “Then leave! _Komm verdammt nochmal nicht mehr zurück_... Don’t come back.”  
  
Amélie’s throat began to close and she swallowed her saliva. Her heartbeat was roaring in her ears. Sure, she was furious, but she’d never anticipated Angela having the gall to nearly punch her in the face. The dancer was in disbelief. Tonight had not gone anything like she’d anticipated. The cool air outside hit her face and served as a means to get her slightly righted again.

 

Her eyes fell to the welcome mat that she had become so familiar with over the years, “You don’t mean that.”  
  
“I mean it. I hate you, don’t come back. I don’t want to see you ever again,” Angela said in a measured, calculating voice.

 

It was cold and bone-chilling, as if the blonde might explode if she was pushed any further. Amélie didn’t count it out of the cards to have her lights punched out if she pushed Angela any further. Amélie had broken her. The French woman hesitantly reached out for her, but the doctor began pushing the woman again. She smacked her chest with open palms to push her back over and over again. Amélie fought back with all her strength, attempting to plant herself so that Angela couldn’t push her away.  
  
“ _Verpiss dich_!” Angela yelled out, surely waking the neighbors, “Leave me! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Fuck you and fuck Gérard! Just leave!”  
  
Amelie’s chest was wracked with pain as her own tears began to spill, her collected and cold demeanor changing almost instantly, “Angela, please... I need you. I’ll go crazy without you. I love you, please don’t do this.”  
  
“ _Ich will dich nie wieder sehen_ ,” Angela spat. “Go.”  
  
The French woman didn’t have to know exactly what her lover had said. The delivery of it all was more than enough of a hint. Amélie’s teeth bit into her lip hard, tears streaking her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and smudged her makeup.

 

A surprisingly tiny voice left her mouth, “Okay, I’ll go. I’m sorry, Angela. I love you.”  
  
Without responding, Angela pulled the ring that she had been given off of her hand, tossing it on the grass at Amélie’s feet. She whirled around without so much as another glance at her lover. Going back into the house, Angela slammed the door behind her and locked it. Her eyes scanned the hall and she grabbed the lamp that sat on the entryway stand. Her hands closed around the appliance and she smashed it on the floor beneath her feet as quickly as she had picked it up. A loud shattering noise echoed throughout the house as shards of ceramic and glass cut at the blonde’s feet. She slid down against the door, mindlessly sitting herself in the potentially hazardous mess she’d just created.  
  
The knuckles of her right hand were bleeding and throbbing as she pulled her knees in toward her chest. A bit of blood began to pool at her feet from sitting on the bits and pieces of broken glass from the light bulb. Angela began to sob, not at the physical or emotional pain, but rather at the relief of it all. She had finally refused to keep living the painful life she had been living. She had stood up for herself and acknowledged that she deserved better. Although it would be some time before she recovered completely, she already felt like the weight of the world had rolled off of her shoulders.  
  
Despite feeling broken hearted, she felt whole again.  
  


-

 

Translations for the Notes:

 

“ _Fick dich! Ich hab mein bestes gegeben.”_ - “Fuck you! I did my best.”

 

_ “Willst du mich verarschen? _ _ ” -  _ “ Do you want to fuck with me? ”

 

_ “ _ _ Komm verdammt nochmal nicht mehr zurück.” -  _ “Don’t damn again ever come back.”

 

_ “Verpiss dich!” -  _ “Fuck off!”

 

_ “Ich will dich nie wieder sehen.” -  _ “I never want to see you again.”


End file.
